


Throzar, Former Scourge of the North

by depressivenightmaregoblin



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Orcs, Sexual Content, Throzar Scourge of the North, vomiting mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:15:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26924968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/depressivenightmaregoblin/pseuds/depressivenightmaregoblin
Summary: Inspired by a tumblr post and a comic by Jasmine Walls in which an orc warlord and a player character have several critical fails that result in them accidentally falling in love.
Relationships: Throzar Scourge of the North/Original Human Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Throzar, Former Scourge of the North

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Fated](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/698488) by Jasmine Walls. 



It had been a long and arduous road, carving through dense forests and conquering snow-tipped mountain peaks. They had been outnumbered and outmatched many times, and yet still emerged victorious, as if blessed by the gods. The trio was weary, and morale was finally beginning to flag. Propelling them forward was the knowledge that their goal was nearly within their grasp. They trailed one another in silence through the barren badlands, jaws set in grim determination. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the carmine soil, the mighty striated rock formations rising up on either side of their path finally beginning to grant some much-needed shade. A light but steady breeze kicked up clouds of red-brown dirt that rolled lazily along the ground like mist.

When Inali, the adept ranger, had last scaled her way to high ground, she had informed the other two that they were within a day’s journey from the Orcish war camp, and within it, Throzar, the Scourge of the North. At their camp the previous night, the triad had spent the evening patching and repairing their equipment as best they could, the air still and silent except for the sounds of hammers and whetstones. Augarius had done his best to polish his fine suit of armor, ornately gilded and gifted to him by a generous king. From a distance he still resembled a noble knight or paladin, just as he had imagined himself as a young boy. But a closer inspection revealed his equipment was dented and tarnished from wear, betraying his humble circumstances. Alas he was but a warrior-for-hire, though during their journey he had proven his skill in combat and dedication to his cause. Perhaps when he returned home he would be given a title, a knighthood perhaps. That would certainly make Ma and Pa proud.

Augarius wiped the sweat from his forehead with the fraying edge of his cloak, leaving small streaks of dirt behind. The heat was oppressive and inescapable, and the breeze too weak to give any relief. The cracked earth seemed to extend infinitely before them, but he knew that was just an illusion. They were growing close now, he could almost feel it. Throzar and his army had laid waste to the northern provinces for far too long, leaving death and grief in their terrible wake. Each of the three had felt the ache of loss because of the bloodthirsty orc and his ilk, though Sheduth, the half-orc spellsword, refused to speak a word about his own history. Inali and Augarius both suspected he had lost the most---for such a large and imposing man, he slept fitfully, and sometimes cried out for his mother in the night.

“There, on the horizon!” Inali exclaimed suddenly, pointing into the distance. Her half-elf eyes were far sharper than her compatriots, and the two men had to squint to see what she was indicating. But there it was, silhouetted in the dusty haze: the distinct rounded shapes of Orcish tents. Three travelers crossing the badlands together was not enough by itself to raise suspicion, so they needn’t conceal their approach. The plan was simple: slip into Throzar’s tent, and challenge him and his two generals to combat. By the rites of their tribe, the orcs were honor-bound to accept the challenge, and with their leadership defeated, the army would dissolve, disseminating into the deep mountains and remote wilds from whence they came. Numbering so few, it would be easy for their party to make their way into the camp unnoticed, especially among the motley crew of orcs, mercenaries, and bandits.

After so long on the road, walking between the tents and seeing so many faces was a surreal experience. The sun was beginning to set when they finally reached the city of tents, and many of the soldiers were gathering around fires and cooking themselves supper. As the trio passed, some of the men looked up and watched them with mild interest, but nothing resembling suspicion. Augarius felt himself begin to relax a little, confident that their ploy would go off without a hitch. He felt almost dizzy with anticipation. So much had led up to this moment.

Throzar’s tent was easy to recognize, as it was easily five times the size of any other tent in the encampment, and ornate tapestries framed the door-flap. An Orcish guard stood outside the entryway, armed with a spear and standing at attention. Without another word to the other two, Sheduth called out to the guard, speaking as if they knew one another. 

“My brother!” He clapped the guard on the back warmly, and with the other hand, slipped a few gold coins into a pouch on the orc’s belt. “Why don’t you go get something to eat? You look hungry.” The guard immediately agreed, and Augarius noticed the soft glow of magicka flowing from Sheduth’s hand and into the guard’s shoulder where it was resting. You could always count on the half-orc to have the perfect spell for the occasion in his back pocket, Augarius thought to himself, silently thanking the gods for bringing Sheduth to him.

When the guard was out of sight, the trio shared a long look, one that said,  _ this is it _ . Augarius threw open the tent-flap, holding his breath.

The tent was empty. Something was wrong. Sheduth and Inali followed behind him immediately, already confused by the silence inside. Before the three could exchange words, an arrow came whistling out of the shadows, sinking between Inali’s ribs with a sickening _THWACK_. She gasped and staggered backwards, falling into Sheduth. Someone screamed, a horrible primal noise, and Augarius realized it was him. Countless arrows sailed from the darkness from many concealed archers, four more finding their home in the half-elf’s chest before the two other men could react and drag her back out of the tent. Someone had betrayed the trio and told orcs they were coming.

Inali had blood on her lips and her breaths were coming in short ragged gasps. She still hadn’t said a word, instead staring back at her comrades with wild, terrified eyes. Sheduth was already supporting her full weight, her legs dangling limply below her. The three of them started trying to make their way out of the encampment but the blood and arrows coming out of Inali were drawing a lot of attention, and their movement was painfully slow. Inali coughed once and groaned in agony, spitting more blood onto her chin.

“I’m dead, leave me,” she croaked. “I’ll only get you killed. Leave me here.” The two men raised their voices in protest but she cut them off. “Look at me, I’m a pin cushion. Get out of here while you still can.” She disentangled her arm from around the half-orc’s shoulders and lowered herself to the ground, grimacing. “ _ Go! _ ” she barked once more, and the now-pair reluctantly took off running, scurrying between tents and hiding behind crates of supplies. There was a growing din behind them as word spread between the soldiers of the would-be assassins in their midst, and the roar and clashing of orcs and men readying for a fight pressed threateningly against their backs as they fled.

The camp, as it turns out, was a sprawling tent-city rivaling those built from stone and timber, and it was becoming increasingly apparent that the two men were lost. There was no end in sight, only more tents and canopies as far as the eye could see. They rounded a corner and Sheduth stopped in his tracks, causing Augarius to collide with his back before turning to see what brought them to a halt.

They were surrounded. They had bolted like hunted animals because they were being hunted like animals, and their panic had led them to a dead end. Augarius felt a horrible sinking in his gut and dread prickled at the back of his neck.

“This ends here, sons of Men,” said a particularly large orc blocking their path. Augarius immediately recognized him as Throzar by his huge battleaxe and the human skull decorating his belt. The duo drew their weapons, knowing it would do them little good against an entire army. They had been outmatched before, but this was different. There would be no escape, no lucky saves to give them the upper hand. Augarius snuck a glance at Sheduth’s face, and saw there were tears forming at the corners of his eyes. The half-orc was breathing hard, his greenish face flushed with emotion. He raised his enchanted axe and released a great war-cry of fury and pain that wrenched Augarius’s very soul, charging at the line of orcs before him. Augarius turned his gaze away as his companion was cut down, his knees threatening to buckle under the weight of his guilt and grief. His head spun and he swallowed hard, struggling not to vomit.

To his disgust, Throzar chuckled. “Looks like you're all alone now, little human. Make peace with your gods.”

“No,” the warrior replied, surprising even himself. “I challenge you, Throzar, Scourge of the North, to armed combat, by the traditions of your ancestors.”

Throzar laughed again, a sound like tearing flesh. “You’re just a whelp. I could kill you in my sleep. Sure, have it your way.” He waved a meaty hand, dismissing the other men. Some of the soldiers immediately dispersed back to their campfires to finish eating dinner, but a few lingered to see their leader make an example out of the human.

The warlord was much taller than Augarius, like all orcs, and bare-chested, showing impressive muscles rippling below green skin mapped with scars. His long dark hair was partially tied back and looked surprisingly soft for a man who lived a life with few amenities. His great axe, honed to a razor’s edge, was covered in small nicks and burnished almost black by use. The human’s pulse quickened as he sized up his opponent. This would be the hardest battle he'd ever fought, and he’d be fighting not just for his own life, but for the memory of Inali, Sheduth, and countless others. He tried to think of a taunt to shout at Throzar, hoping to maybe throw him off.

“HOW DARE YOU LOOK SO MAJESTIC, YOU BEAUTIFUL BASTARD!”

That was not exactly what he had in mind, and not even that close to the words he was imagining in his head. His cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. Of all the times to be tongue-tied!

But to his surprise, the orc seemed genuinely taken aback by the… compliment? Augarius turned his sword over in his hands, more uncomfortable than he could ever recall being. What was  _ wrong _ with him? Before he could react, Throzar had closed the gap between them, looming over him. Gold hoops gleamed in his ears, and he smelled like smoke and leather. He took the smaller man by the chin, tilting his face towards his own. Augarius’s breath caught in his throat and the moment seemed to last an eternity. His pulse pounded in his ears. He could feel Throzar’s breath on his face as he stood frozen. Well,  _ mostly _ frozen---he noticed a growing tightness in the front of his leggings, causing his face to burn even hotter.

“What did you say to me, whelp?” Throzar growled. The human remembered the sword in his hands but found he couldn’t summon the strength to lift it. His arms felt numb, and as he tried again to raise his weapon, his grip faltered and it clattered to his feet. He watched his hands drift to the orc’s chest and come to rest there, feeling the heat of him under his fingers.  _ Is this really happening? What  _ is _ happening? _ In response Throzar’s free arm looped around his waist and pulled him in, pressing their bodies together. Confused murmuring came from the gathered crowd, who undoubtedly expected a very different turn of events. Augarius’s heart was thundering in his chest, and he could swear he could feel the orc’s heartbeat going just as rapidly against him.

“I, uh, I said you look majestic, you beautiful bastard,” the smaller man finally squeaked, sounding a lot more timid than he would have liked.

“You find me beautiful, human?” the orc smiled, almost bashful. “I must also confess, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man so handsome as you.”

Once again surprising himself, Augarius leaned up and pressed his lips gently against Throzar’s, feeling the orc’s tusks against his mouth. The orc returned the kiss, drawing hoots and wolf-whistles from the soldiers. They pulled away, staring deep into one another’s eyes.

“Do you think love can bloom on a battlefield?”

“I think stranger things have happened,” Augarius answered, and kissed his love again.


End file.
